


The Way Back

by 손 현숙 (safarikalamari)



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Affection, Angst, Emotional Baggage, Getting Back Together, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Modern Era, Possible Continuation, Present Tense, Separations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-12 02:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18001697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safarikalamari/pseuds/%EC%86%90%20%ED%98%84%EC%88%99
Summary: It's been twenty years, four days, seven hours, and fifteen minutes since Race last saw Spot.Race has yet to stop counting.





	The Way Back

_All Race can see is confusion as he cups Spot’s face._

_“I don’t know where we’re going, I don’t know what’s happening,” Race sobs, memorizing all he can about Spot. “I’ll try to write to you, I swear I’ll try.”_

_“Race, what...what do you mean?” Spot barely manages and his eyes search for answers Race can’t provide._

_The front door bursts open, a gruff man grabbing hold of Race._

_“Spot, I love you,” Race whispers, throwing his arms around Spot for just a moment before he’s torn away._

_“Race!” Spot runs after them, but another man stops Spot, shoving him back onto the grass._

_Race is thrown into a car before a entourage of them speed away and Spot is left alone in his front lawn. His mother’s hands land on his shoulders, her words a hazy mess on Spot’s ears. As he’s guided to his feet, the tears run down his face and his mother holds him close, his mind struggling to understand all that is happening._

* * *

Race hates long road trips. 

Memories seep into his mind when music isn’t enough to distract him and he scowls at the past that scars him. 

He’s getting close to his hometown, a place he never thought he’d see again. He wonders what’s happened to his friends, what’s become of his school. 

Then, there’s Spot. 

Spot, the love of his life. 

He’s never found anyone come even close to what he felt with Spot. They may have only been teenagers, but Race knew what they had could never be replaced. Another thought strikes him and Race frowns. 

He never did manage to write. With his father moving them from city to city, Race focused more on his well-being, anything to survive his father, and regrets press down on his mind. Spot probably found himself someone nice, moved away from their small town. Spot always had talked about getting out, how the two of them would travel the world together. 

A clunking drags Race from his thoughts and he checks the gas, seeing he has more than a full tank. Yet, the car shakes, and before Race knows it, he’s pulling over to the side, thick smoke coming from the engine. 

Race swears colorfully, throwing the door open as he peers at the smoke. He never was handy with cars and being stuck in the middle of nowhere puts him in a sticky situation. 

Digging out his emergency phone and a phonebook, Race finds the first mechanic he can, dialing the number as he scowls at the sky. The call is answered quickly and the mechanic reassures Race that a tow truck should be to him within the hour. 

“Fantastic,” Race mumbles after he’s hung up the phone and he digs into his suit coat pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. 

He’s tried to stop, he really has, but with his nerves on edge, Race needs something. 

His father won’t be happy about this, Race knows, but it’s not his fault that he’s been given a piece of junk for a car. He makes a note to call his father’s office once he reaches the mechanic’s, hoping the business can spare a few days. 

This time, Race curses his father. His entire life has been controlled by him, forced into work he never wanted to be a part of. He and Spot were going to run away, free themselves from what society expected of them. 

Race doesn’t know how many cigarettes he’s gone through by the time he sees the tow truck approaching. Giving a courteous wave, he watches as the truck maneuvers until it’s just in front of his car.

He doesn’t pay attention to the mechanic that jumps out, only turning when the mechanic greets him with a, “Engine problems?”

“Yeah,” Race shakes his head, motioning to the smoldering car. “Just started making weird noises and now this.”

The mechanic nods his head and Race notices something familiar about him, but he passes it off as the mechanic sets to opening the hood. There’s some tinkering Race doesn’t pay attention to and then the mechanic lets out a sigh. 

“Gotta take it back to the shop. It needs a bigger fix.”

Race grimaces, his gaze following the closing hood before he meets the mechanic’s eyes. Then, his breath is caught in his throat and all Race can do is stare. It couldn’t be him, yet Race knows with all his heart that he knows this man.

“Spot?” Race croaks out and the mechanic freezes, eyes going wide. 

There’s a moment where Race thinks he’s wrong, but then the mechanic takes a step towards Race, his mouth moving though no sound comes out. 

“Racer?” His voice is just above a whisper, the two in suspended disbelief at who stands in front of them. 

Race can’t help himself. He launches himself at Spot, wrapping him up in a tight hug. When Spot’s arms hold him close, it takes all of Race’s strength to keep his tears at bay. 

“God, how long has it been?” Spot asks as they pull away. His hands hold onto Race’s face and he revels in the touch. 

“Twenty years,” Race shakes his head, apologizes bursting forth in his watering eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Spot laughs a little, using his thumbs to wipe away the first of Race’s tears that fall. “What’re you sorry for?”

Race doesn’t know where to start and before he can, Spot embraces him once more. 

“We better get your car back to the shop before my boss gets worried.”

Nodding his agreement, Race reluctantly lets go, only to keep his eyes on Spot as he hooks up the car to the tow. Spot has a gentle smile as he does his work and Race doesn’t want to believe it. How there’s no malice in Spot’s eyes, as if he’s just happy to see Race.

Race glances down on his feet, hating his cowardice. He should’ve come back years earlier, not remaining a slave to his father’s work. 

It’s silent as the two get into the tow truck and Race gazes out the window as the engine starts. A hand grazes against his own, making Race turn to Spot before their fingers tangle together. 

He’s missed this.

Race has denied himself everything and he wants to start crying again. Spot deserves better than a mess of tears however, so Race steels himself as they head into town. 

“So, you’re still here, huh?” The words leave Race’s mouth before he can stop himself and he winces at his bluntness. 

“Yeah, someone’s gotta take care of my mom,” Spot responds, his thumb caressing the back of Race’s hand. 

“Christ, how is she?” Race laughs a little, imagining how she’s changed over the years. 

“I’m convinced she’s getter stronger with age,” Spot grins. “Surprised I haven’t had to bail her out of jail yet.”

Race hasn’t felt this good in years. Forgotten memories welcome themselves back into Race’s mind and a small contented sigh leaves him as he sees the familiar buildings he grew up with. Main Street hasn’t changed a bit and the old school somehow hasn’t crumbled to dust. 

“Who’s still here?” Race asks as he sees his house in the distance. 

“Just me,” Spot replies as they pull into the shop. “But everyone visits at least twice a year. We all get together, have a few laughs.”

Race’s heart aches at all he’s missed. He wonders if anyone would even give him the time of day anymore with the way he left. He only had time to say goodbye to Spot.

The conversation ends as Spot parks the truck and he exchanges a few words with the head of the shop. Race stands near the garage doors, glancing around in hopes of finding a payphone when Spot comes back over. 

“You in a rush? It looks like your car might need a couple of days.” Spot scratches the back of his neck and Race easily sees through what’s going on in Spot’s mind. 

“Just gotta make a call, but otherwise I’m all yours.” Race blushes as a grin blossoms on Spot’s face and Spot leads Race to a phone. 

It goes about as well as Race expects. He holds the phone away from his ear as his father shouts, but when his father calms down, he allows Race his delay. Race mutters his thanks before hanging up and he finds Spot leaning against a vintage sports car, staring at the sky that’s beginning to darken. 

“Mom will be excited to see you,” Spot smiles, opening the passenger door for Race. 

“It’ll be good to see her too,” Race’s voice is wistful and he looks back at Spot as he starts up the car. 

Spot has changed so much, yet hardly at all. Race can see new wrinkles, a different tiredness, but there’s still that gleam behind his eyes, the strength in how he holds himself. 

Race knows he himself hasn’t changed. Still the same boy, unable to stand up to himself, always on the run. 

It’s a short ride to Spot’s house and Race guesses Spot just repainted the sides with how much they seem to stand out in the evening light. 

A few lights are on inside, a figure just barely made out as they move back and forth in the kitchen. Memories wash over Race, a part of him wishing to stay in the car, but Spot is quicker, already opening the door.

“Be prepared,” Spot jokes as the two head into the house. 

Race takes a moment to look around once they’re inside, almost frozen where he stands. A few decorations have moved around, but it’s the still the same warm house he always felt welcome in. 

“Oh my goodness, it can’t be!”

Before Race can do anything, Spot’s mother hugs Race, showering him with love and affection he’s never found elsewhere. 

“Ms. Conlon,” Race hugs her back and he sees Spot grinning at the two of them, hands in his pockets. 

“My, you’ve grown,” she pulls back, looking Race up and down. “And aged well too.” She glances over at Spot and Race can only guess what kind of look she’s giving him.

Then, the two are ushered into the kitchen and a full course meal is already laid out. 

“You know I was never able to cook for just two,” Ms. Conlon catches onto Race’s wide eyes as she dishes him up a plate. 

Race nods, remembering all the meals he had here and he sits next to Spot as they settle into dinner. Twenty years of catching up is difficult for Race, his answers thin and vague. If Ms. Conlon notices, she doesn’t make a fuss and Spot remains quiet as well. 

When dinner is finished, Race finds himself on Spot’s back porch, the two of them sitting next to each other on the porch swing. There is a soft glow of fireflies and Race is reminded of the night he and Spot set to catching as many as they could. 

Nothing is said at first, but Race can’t take the silence anymore. 

“I’m sorry,” he shakes his head, unable to meet Spot’s eyes. 

“You’ve said that,” Spot responds evenly. “I still don’t know what you’re apologizing for.”

Race furrows his eyebrows, his hands wringing in his lap. “I didn’t write to you. Didn’t even try to find you. God, Spot, it’s been twenty years since we last saw each other.”

“I know.”

Race’s frustrations build and he gets to his feet. “Then why aren’t you angry? Why haven’t you settled down? It’s obvious I’m still stuck, that I’m just as immature as ever.”

Spot seems unbothered by Race’s outburst, his face neutral. “You hardly had a choice,” he begins softly. “No one was oblivious to the way your father was...is. We were all just kids when everything happened.”

A response is far from Race’s mind and he backs away when Spot stands up. 

“You shouldn’t be blaming yourself for anything,” Spot sighs. “I didn’t try to find you either. I just kept hoping you’d show up out of the blue one day, packed bag and all.”

The emotions are swirling in Race’s brain, his breath hitching as he cards through his past mistakes. Spot has always been too good to him. 

“It’s not too late,” Spot whispers, holding onto Race by his arms. “We’re only in our thirties, Race.”

“What...what are you saying?” Race’s heart thrums in his chest and he stares at Spot’s shirt. 

He lets Spot lift his head, the world fading away as their eyes meet. The feelings become too much and whether it’s Spot or himself that moves first, Race isn’t sure. All he knows is that he never wants to turn back. He sighs into the kiss, letting his hands uncurl on Spot’s chest as they stay together as long as they can. 

“I’ve got so much to fix, Spot,” Race mutters when they break apart and he rests his head on Spot’s shoulder. 

“We’ll do it together,” Spot reassures. “I knew from day one I wanted to marry you. Did you know that?”

Race stares at Spot in shock, his mouth dropping open just a little. “Sean Conlon, are you proposing to me?”

Spot shrugs, a smirk on his face and Race almost rolls his eyes. 

Taking a hand back, Spot pulls his necklace off, revealing two golden rings hanging from the chain. “I was going to give one to you after prom, but you left before…”

Race curses all the bad luck in his life, biting his lip as Spot separates the two rings. His hands shake as Spot takes his left one, sliding the ring onto his finger. It’s somehow a perfect fit and Race stares at the ring, admiring how it shines in the stray light from inside the house. Noticing the ring still in Spot’s hand, Race snatches it up, grabbing hold of Spot’s hand and doing the same as Spot had done. 

“I love you, Race,” Spot kisses Race again and Race can feel his chest swelling with happiness.

“I love you too, Spot.”

The two take their time embracing on the porch, but it’s Spot who leads them inside eventually. Race puts all his trust in Spot and as they fall onto the bed, Race thinks of nothing else but the man besides him.

~

Sunlight pours into the room and Race blinks at the window. 

It’s already late morning, but Race is no mood to jump out of bed. Spot’s body is pressed against his own and Race smiles as he looks down at Spot’s sleeping face. It’s the most relaxed Race has ever seen Spot, no worries at all for the day that lay ahead. Unable to help himself, Race leans down, kissing Spot and it’s then that Spot begins to waken as he rolls onto his side. 

“I’m so glad you’re not a dream,” Spot smiles up at Race, tugging him close. 

The two become a tangled mess, but neither mind as they stare at each other’s faces. Race’s fingers dance along Spot’s skin and they exchange lazy kisses until Race finds the strength to speak. 

“My old man won’t let me stay here more than a few days,” Race sighs. “He’ll have my head if I’m not in the city.”

Spot props himself up on an elbow, frowning at Race. “We’ve gotta do something about him. He can’t keep controlling your life like this.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” Race shakes his head. “He has all my money, he probably has some tracking bug on me, I can’t win, Spot. I can’t.”

“There’s got to be some kind of emancipation law. I mean you’re a goddamn adult,” Spot fiddles around with the corner of a pillow. “Maybe when Boots and Crutchie are back in town. We’ll ask them.”

Race knows his confusion was evident when Spot laughs a little. 

“Yeah, the two of them started a law firm. They were in Santa Fe for a bit with Jack and Davey, but now they’re closer to home.”

All Race wants is to turn back time, to somehow make it so he hadn’t left the town at all. He’s glad his friends are so successful, but he can’t help feel guilty for missing everything. 

“Come on, we’ll figure things out today,” Spot throws the blankets off of them and Race goes to cover himself, unprepared for Spot’s sudden action. 

Spot dresses quickly and Race is left to follow his lead before the two are heading to the kitchen, once again greeted by a full table of food. Race’s last few years have been filled with nothing but microwavable meals, he can’t believe he’s lasted this long without home cooking.

He’s excited when he and Spot are sent off with lunches prepared by Ms. Conlon and the two are back at the shop before Race knows it. 

“Could you hand me the crescent wrench?” Spot motions as he peers at the engine. 

It’s a tool Race knows well enough and he plucks it out from Spot’s tool box, letting their fingers brush as he hands it over. Spot blushes as he gives Race a smile and there’s a moment of something more, but the shop is filled with workers today so Spot and Race remain as they are. 

“Do you really think Boots and Crutchie can do something?” Race asks, holding onto himself as he watches Spot work. 

“If they can’t, I will,” Spot shrugs, switching tools and sparing a glance for Race. “I won’t let him take anymore from us than he already has.”

Race stares at Spot with an overwhelming sense of admiration. Strong-headed, driven Spot, Race wishes to share in even just a part of that. 

“You’re so brave, you know that?” Spot’s voice is low and Race realizes Spot has hands braced on either side of him. 

“Oh, uh…” Race shrinks a little, Spot’s breath hot on his face. 

“I mean it, Race. The fact that you’re still here, still fighting, that says everything.”

Race hasn’t put up a fight at all. He’s let himself be walked on, abused, and he finds it hard to believe Spot’s words. 

“I hope someday you’ll see it too,” Spot gives a soft smile before pecking Race’s lips. 

Race almost grabs hold of Spot’s shirt, but he lets him get back to his work as his stomach twists. Maybe with the right encouragement, the right help, Race will finally be able to crawl out of his hole. For now, it’s the matter of getting away from his father and Race takes to watching Spot, ready to start a new life.

* * *

_“You’ve ruined my life, you’ve ruined everything!”_

_“Ruined your life? I’m saving you, boy. I’m protecting you.”_

_“That doesn’t mean a goddamn thing. I was happy where we were, you took me from my friends, from Spot. You knew what he meant to me!”_

_The slap across Race’s face stings and he holds back his tears. Turning away from his father’s yelling, Race runs to his room, slamming the door shut._

_He cries as he slides down to the floor, a hole carving itself into his chest._

_All he’s known is gone and his hopes begin to fade away._

* * *

Race jolts from his sleep, staring around at his surroundings. 

It’s Spot’s room and he can hear soft snores coming from Spot next to him. Smiling a little, Race kisses Spot’s forehead before he gets up, wrapping a blanket around himself as he looks out the window. 

The night is quiet, the stars are bright, and Race lets his mind wander. He knows he and Spot can just run, that his father doesn’t own the entire world. The thing is, Race is tired. Tired of hiding, tired of giving up. He needs to take this stand for Spot and for himself. 

“Babe?” Spot’s voice breaks the silence and Race looks over his shoulder. 

“Just thinking,” he shakes his head. “I’ll be back in bed in a second.”

Spot nods, but instead of going back to sleep, he gets up and stands behind Race, wrapping his arms around his waist. Spot props his head on Race’s shoulder, the two staring out the window, swaying just a little.

“Thank you,” Race breathes as he places a hand on top of Spot’s own. “Thank you for everything.”

Spot hums, but Race isn’t finished. 

“I mean it. I haven’t been myself and you’ve brought me back. You’ve believed in me and I hope I can repay you someday.”

“You’re my fiance,” Spot laughs. “I think that’s more than enough. Besides, we shouldn’t be about repayments. It’s just you and me.”

Race’s heart melts and he turns in Spot’s hold, throwing his arms around Spot’s neck. “Spotty, Spotty,” he murmurs, laughing a little as Spot blushes. 

“Did you know you’re the only one that calls me that?”

“Yeah, because you’d punch at anyone else who did.”

The two laugh, foreheads resting together as they embrace once more. The countdown is on, but with Spot, Race feels as if he has all the time in the world, a chance to make the impossible possible.

**Author's Note:**

> HELP ME WRITE MORE THAN JUST ONE SHOTS PLS
> 
> [Wumblr](http://safarikalamari.tumblr.com)


End file.
